


Control

by blue_jack



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-28
Updated: 2011-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-23 04:32:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karl noticed that Chris had a thing about control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

The first time Karl noticed anything, they were in the middle of sex. Chris was going so deep, hitting his prostate with every second or third stroke, touching his face, his arm, his chest, staring at Karl as if he couldn’t look away, the look on his face so unbelievably intent that Karl knew Chris wasn’t thinking of anything but him, and it was too much. All of it, separately and together, was too much, and Karl’s hand became a blur, because orgasm was just right there, and fuck, he was going to—

“No, not yet,” Chris panted, and Karl cursed as Chris gripped his hand, forcing him to stop and then _squeezed_ around the base of his cock painfully until orgasm was no longer imminent. “Not yet, Karl.”

Karl had a response to that, which included the words, “Are you fucking out of your _mind_?” but then Chris got up on his knees, bending Karl completely in half, and started thrusting even harder, getting his prostate _every single damn time_ , and he entwined their fingers together, pinning Karl’s hands to the bed, and fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!

By the time Chris finally let him come, Karl was so blissed out in his post-orgasmic haze that he didn’t remember to complain…okay, complain was the wrong word…didn’t think to question what had just happened. He was so wrung out that he fell asleep almost immediately, and when he woke up, Chris had already left for the set of the new movie he was filming, and Karl was going to be late if he didn’t hurry up and get out of bed.

It was a month later before Karl noticed it again, and they had never gotten around to talking about it the first time, because, hello, they were guys, and besides, one thing after another had kept getting in the way until Karl had forgotten he’d even wanted to bring it up at all. This time, Chris was on his knees, sucking the very life out of Karl, and Karl was sure he was going to die because holy shit, Chris’ mouth should be illegal in at least thirty-two states, and then—

“Chris, fuck, don’t stop,” he gasped, his hips arching off the couch as Chris pulled back, licking and suckling the head, eyes firmly fastened on Karl, and while that was incredibly arousing, seeing that pink, pink tongue against the red of his cock as blue eyes watched and weighed his reactions, _fuck_ , Karl was _so_ close, so tantalizingly close, and he wanted, no he fucking _needed_ Chris to get back to doing what he’d been doing just a second ago.

“Don’t worry, Karl,” Chris said, his voice husky from deep-throating, and damn, Karl couldn’t stop the moan as Chris licked lips that were wet and swollen, “I’m not going to stop.”

“Chris…”

And he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop for a long time, taking Karl to the very edge and backing away again and again, only pausing when Karl tried to take matters into his own hands and grabbed Chris’ hair, trying to force him to finish.

“Karl,” he whispered, eyes amused but firm as he took Karl’s hand and started fellating his fingers to his cock’s jealous displeasure, “every time you do that, I’m going to make you wait five more minutes to come.”

“You wouldn’t,” he growled, so hard he worried about the very real possibility of spontaneously combusting.

“Try me.” And the look Chris sent him as he said those words made Karl put his hands meekly on the couch, sliding them under his thighs to keep them from straying when Chris went back to that slow, torturous pace.

He was going to kill Chris. At the very least, fuck him so hard when this was over that Chris would have to call in sick to work tomorrow because he wouldn’t be able to get out of bed—

“I can hear your thoughts, Karl,” Chris said, nipping at his inner thigh, and Karl cursed, groaning as Chris took his testicle into that sadistic, hot mouth as he pulled Karl lower on the couch and pushed his thighs up until he was open and exposed.

“Then you know you’d better—oh, fuck!” Karl almost came off the couch when Chris pushed his tongue into him without any warning, wriggling and insistent, scraping against the muscle and demanding entrance. “Chris—ngh—fuck, Chris, please—”

“I love it when you beg, Karl.”

He shuddered all over as Chris’ words ghosted over his flesh.

“Please, please, please,” he gasped, willing to say anything, fuck, willing to _do_ anything if only Chris would _get on with it_ and let him come! He was so ready, so fucking ready, and it should have been embarrassing that he was shaking, nearly twisting off the couch as he offered himself up to whatever Chris would consent to give him, that could feel his precome leaking down his stomach because there was so much of it, but all that mattered, all that fucking mattered was that Chris touch him, that Chris—

“ _Shit_!” He couldn’t stop the choked off sounds coming from his throat as Chris’s finger made its relentless way into him without anything but saliva to ease its passage, Chris still licking and sucking at his anus all the while. “Chris, I’m going to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Chris warned, even as he hooked his finger and began massaging Karl’s prostate, until Karl was trembling all over, his fingers digging into his thighs as he fought to keep his hands under him, until it was a miracle Karl _didn’t_ come because he had never felt anything like this, and he’d been desperate to come for what seemed like hours, and Chris, oh hell, Chris, Chris, please, _fuck, please_ —

Karl shouted when Chris shoved another finger into him, brutally pressing both into his prostate, even as he sucked Karl back into his mouth. He shouted and shuddered and arched so far off the couch that he probably choked Chris, but he didn’t care, couldn’t care, couldn’t even think because the pleasure was so severe, so agonizingly intense that it bordered on pain, and everything was white, and he couldn’t see, and the only thing that kept him from shattering was Chris’ hands holding him down.

“You okay?” Chris asked minutes, long, long minutes, later, and Karl blinked, hearing the words, technically understanding the words, but not really processing them.

“Karl?” Chris asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he prodded him, which made Karl frown because he was _not_ moving, not for money or alcohol or even Chris, the damn talented bastard.

“So…you have this…thing,” Karl murmured, trying to wave his hand but giving up when he could only get it to twitch.

“Um, yeah. Sometimes. Not always. But, uh, yeah. Does it…does it bother you?” Chris asked, nervously petting Karl’s thigh.

He snorted. “No. Not at all.” Fuck, hell no.

Chris stopped staring at the couch and looked up, starting to smile at whatever he saw in Karl’s eyes. “Good,” he said, the tenor of his touch changed, becoming more confident, more possessive. “Good.”


End file.
